


City of Dreams

by loveatthirdsight



Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, Drama, Erotic Thriller, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveatthirdsight/pseuds/loveatthirdsight
Summary: What if, by chance, the Shiroyasha had met a young Courtesan of Death years before the Yorozuya was even a thought in either of their minds?





	1. Chapter 1

**City of Dreams**

" _Take care when dealing with roses, lest you be pricked by thorns._ "

_\- Tsukuyo_

* * *

**1**. the beginning

* * *

This is her earliest memory, if she ever cared enough to reach for it. (She doesn't.)

It begins with her, ten years old. She doesn't remember what her real name was. The village is small, the rice paddies ruined by the tsunami that had swept through the countryside. The rain left roads in a state of permanent mush, and too many houses had washed away. That morning she had wondered why her father had chosen to take her to the market all by herself, and pondered why her mother had chosen to cry that morning as she made breakfast - a barley gruel flavored with the last reserves of bonito flakes - for the entire family.

Her father hunkers down. "This man is going to take you to your new home," he says curtly. "Be a good girl."

There is a man, a trafficker, stooped with wrinkles and eyes filled with hardness and caustic cynicism. He stands next to a carriage and a horse who stomps his feet angrily into the red mud.

"When will I get back?" she asks, already scared.

"This is the last time I'll see you," her father says. He takes a bag of money from the rider, and shoves her in front of the slave trader.

The realization strikes her like a lightning bolt, and panic rises in her throat. Already the old man with his mean eyes clamps his wrist on hers, jerking her away from her father.

She knows that other girls have been sold before. Never had she assumed it would have applied to her. Why, it was only seconds ago had she truly believed her family loved her!

" _Otou-san_ ," she said, with tears. "Please - please, can't you - "

"No," he said. He turns his back. Doesn't look away as she screams and begs for forgiveness.

The door shuts in the carriage. She won't see the sun again until another decade.

 

* * *

 

Vulgar men line the streets. The girl looked around timidly, with her wrists bound tightly as she took in the darkness of the city. Women, carefully painted, were there to lure customers. Later she would learn of the nature of barter, not through goods, but through services of the body.

This is her first introduction to Yoshiwara, a heaven for men and a hell for women. It is a floating city, where one can spend their entire fortune on beauties from the East.

She can already see the women, dead and weary behind the bars of the window. She wonders if that's to be her own destiny, and lowers her head, already defeated. She doesn't want to see any more of this.

 

* * *

 

"Welcome, dear," Lady Kamekichi said in a voice of poisoned honey. The courtesan's eyes were cold and grey, unlike the warm amber of her mother. "I will teach you be my assistant," she continued silkily. The girl didn't trust her from the start, but followed obediently. This was not home anymore, with no Mother and Father to lead the way ever since their house burned down, selling daughters who they couldn't afford to feed anymore.

"What is your name?" the courtesan asked, walking towards the girl.

No answer. It had been so long since she had a drink of water that her throat had gone dry. As she opened her mouth, only air came out, her voice suddenly vanishing.

"Are you mute?" Lady Kamekichi asked sharply, her eyes narrowed in disdain. "Koichi-san, I have no use for mutes."

"Answer the lady!" the slave trader snarled, swatting the girl's head.

She couldn't shake her head, couldn't breathe as the strength left her body. She hadn't eaten for days. A blow to her face snuffed out all her energy and she crumpled to the ground, motionless.

"Hmmph," the courtesan sniffed. "You would have better served as a lowly prostitute on the bottom." She left the room in a swish of silk and ordered another one of her assistants to tend to the girl.

 

* * *

 

When the young girl came around, a kind servant held a wooden basket of cool water and a small tray of onigiri. A wet towel stuck to her forehead as she blinked wearily, taking in the opulence of the Yoshiwaran palace.

"You'll have to forgive Lady Kamekichi," the servant said, as she dipped a ladle into the water and placed it against the girl's mouth. With water, there came life. "She isn't very forgiving of new girls."

"More," she said, her throat rasping. The servant obliged until the girl felt comfortable with sitting up.

"That woman... who is she?"

"She's the top courtesan in Yoshiwara. She picked you to be her assistant."

"Why?"

"Your fair hair and blue eyes, of course. They stand out from the rest of everybody else in this city. Was your father a foreigner?"

"I don't know."

"It looks like it, though. I bet you'll fetch a high price when you grow a little bit older."

Something about the arbitrary system of judgment seemed off to her. "What do you mean - didn't they pay my father enough money?"

"They'll buy little girls from the villages when they're young and cheap, keep them over here to train to incur a debt, and you'll have to work to pay your way out of it," the servant explained. "For now, you won't have to do anything, since Lady Kamekichi has already signed a contract to keep you. But - "

"I need to escape."

"Good luck with that. The elevators to this place are strictly off limits to women. This is a city run by the Amanto. We haven't seen sunlight in a decade. If you run, they'll kill you."

"I see..."

"It's a prison," the servant girl said, with a wry grin. "Good luck - what was your name?"

 

* * *

 

"Your hair reminds me of the moonlight," Lady Kamekichi said. "Therefore, I will call you Tsukuyo."

Obediently the girl accepted it, as there were no options otherwise. Her mentor was a cold mistress, but held more power than her. In life there were rules to be followed and this city was bound to imprison her anyways - why make life difficult?

She learned how to buff white powder onto the necks of geisha; to twist hair in elaborate coiffures in forms of immaculate perfection. Learned: to wash the delicate silks of the courtesan costumes and to polish hair ornaments. Learned: the name of the ruby lacquer that was painted onto every courtesan's lip, the precision of a bow to a patron. These things she memorized intimately, for to make mistakes was to suffer from lashings of a cruel man who hated women for their lasciviousness.

On one of those occasions where Tsukuyo had spilled ink onto Lady Kamekichi's summer robes she had been put into solitary confinement for three days. These were three days without proper nutrition, only a small cup of water every few hours or so to make sure they didn't die.

The word insanity came to mind. To keep away from descending into darkness Tsukuyo yelled out questions whenever she heard of a person approaching the room - to know of the time, to know when she would be free. Some were sympathetic. Most were not.

Her stomach growled frequently, hunger gnawing from the inside out. It had been half a day already, and she was keeling from the lack of food.

It was then that a young and beautiful woman walked in with a tray of riceballs.

"Wha - what are you doing?" Tsukuyo rasps, her voice so small and weak.

 

* * *

 

When one door shuts, another opened.

Lady Kamekichi examined Tsukuyo with a cool eye. "She's no good, that one. Doesn't know how to dance worth a darn, or even _smile_."

"We'll see about that," Hinowa replied, equally cool.

Smiling indulgently, the courtesan gave Hinowa a pen to sign the contract that would allow Tsukuyo to be transferred in her care. The debt had not changed one whit.

Hinowa's room was more sparse and less opulent than Lady Kamekichi's, but she was quickly building up a reputation for her exquisite beauty and grace. There was something in her eyes that defied classification. She transcended the idea of a simple courtesan who engaged in petty gossip and mindless prostitution. Men were intrigued by her sunny demeanor and women somehow felt more reassured when Hinowa entered the room.

 _This is a person I want to protect_ , Tsukuyo thought to herself one day, as she was in the middle of pinning up Hinowa's hair. It was such a radically new thought that she paused for a moment, wondering where such words had come from before.

"Tsukuyo?" her mentor asked gently. "Is there something wrong?"

"... No," she replied, resuming her task of inserting the hair ornaments Hinowa had wanted to wear for a patron that night. Yet her mind was whirling, of thoughts beyond hating her weakness, her small size.

_I want to protect her. I love her. I don't want to lose her._

 

* * *

 

"Hosen-sama, I think this child has potential to be part of the Hyakka."

Even the King of Yoshiwara was not immune from the influence of Hinowa, who was now the most courtly and prestigious of all the courtesans in the city. People visited her from far away and her name was known throughout the city of Edo.

"She would make better fortune as a courtesan," the old man remarked, roughly. "Look at her fair hair, her eyes, her skin."

"She has no temperament for it, yet possesses a keen mind. It would be a shame to eliminate her, my lord."

"It would be far quicker to take her out of misery if she had not the aptitude. I already know that she will grow up to be a fine beauty," Hosen said. On two sides were lowlier courtesans plucking their shamisens, eyes drooped low out of respect.

"Perhaps _I_ shall be the judge of that," another voice interrupted. Tsukuyo's head turned.

A man with bandages wrapped around his head had sneaked in without any notice. She had not noticed him at all when she had crawled into the room.

"Jiraia! How good to see you," Hosen said, grin spreading from ear to ear. "I have not seen you for months."

"Forgive me, my lord. I was busy."

Hosen laughed, his voice dark and rich. "I expected such from such a shinobi like you. I may have a student for you, if you are willing to take on this child."

Jiraia looked at Tsukuyo. "I don't teach girls," he said flatly.

"I'll kill myself if you won't take me on," Tsukuyo said fiercely. "I swear on my life that I will."

"Little girl, you underestimate the gift of life."

"There's no life to be lived in this city as a woman," she cried out in her little-girl voice, her eyes snapping like firecrackers.

"Such astute words, coming from a child like you," Hosen said, though his eyes were glittering with dark interest. "If you won't take her on, perhaps I will."

"You'll kill her," Jiraia said. He kneeled down and handed Tsukuyo a short sword. "Little girl, scar your face to show me the conviction of your desire."

The blood makes a beautiful stain on the tatami floor. She can remember the warmth of Jiraia's hand on her head, but barely feels any pain.

 

* * *

 

\- to be continued -


	2. Chapter 2

2\. _ten years later_

* * *

A brigand of samurai pressed the button and went down the elevator. Tsukuyo quietly followed them, wearing a straw hat as her disguise. Her golden head would have stood out from the girls whose hair was as dark as the night sky.

It was another regular night of work. Men entered the pleasure district, peering at the beauties presented behind bars. Their skin had been buffed with white powder, lips red as blood and hair ornaments strung with calculated appeal. Their voices were smooth as honey, beckoning patrons with seductive eyes and silk fans. Luxurious kimonos were donned with a practiced nonchalance. Here, one could pay for a fantasy at a price.

Tsukuyo paid no attention to the display; intent on following the group without attracting undue attention. Her feet knew the streets better than most, her eyes scanning the open horizon with quick sweeping gazes. All the while her hands were shoved into her pockets, clenching kunai underneath the blue fabric of her yukata.

"Don't act so nervous," Jiraia said smoothly. "I've taught you well enough."

"Yes, _Shishou_ ," Tsukuyo said, and she willed herself to relax. Gradually she let go of her metal knives, breathing in the pumped air.

"That's better," he said encouragingly. The two of them walked together, Jiraia's face disguised cunningly with a countenance that had not previously belonged to him. He had stripped it from a dead corpse, and injected it with a few chemicals for extra realism. Tsukuyo had already bound her chest and tied her hair into a long ponytail, disguising her gender by doing so.

Patrolling the city was a task that she had seen many of the senior members of Hyakka do, but one that she had not undertaken. She was quite young and needed assistance; her master had only been too prepared for the occasion and took her along the less dangerous routes.

Criminals were serious business in a city of sensual vice. Tsukuyo had seen jealous lovers fighting to the death, sex trafficking beyond the legal constraints of Yoshiwara, and even children forced into prostitution. Yet the knowledge of this could not stop the adrenaline from pumping into her blood. She was part of the paramilitary. She could not let her master down.

 _The way of a woman is to suffer_ , her master told her. _You must break those bonds of femininity, Tsukuyo. Break free of being a woman_.

 

* * *

 

Sakata Gintoki at first is just like any other patron. She's enjoying a cup of tea by herself, off-duty, with an ashtray on the table and her fingers holding her pipe for a moment as she breathes the smoke out. This doesn't mean she's unaware of things going on. She knows who the regular customers are, and keeps her eyes carefully peeled for any sign of unusual activity.

There are two samurai on the left, one with a head of pure white curls. She droops her eyes and pretends to be absorbed in the menu while she examines both of them. The one with purple hair is more handsome, she admits to herself, but he looks too sullen and moody.

She calls the waitress, and asks about the two strangers.

"Ah, aren't they good looking?" The waiter places the empty cup on her tray. "I've heard they're really important samurai. The curly perm head is the Shiroyasha and he's supposed to be a demon on the battlefield. The man with the eyepatch is the commander of the Kiheitai. Impressive duo, isn't it?"

Tsukuyo frowned. "What are they doing here?"

"Beats me," the lady says. "But I'm not complaining."

Ten feet away, Gintoki bites into a stick of dango and motions to Takasugi that someone's looking at them. He smiles and winks at the blonde when he first caught her gaze, and she blushes, forcing her to look away from him. But it's too late. Already they've made eye contact, and he remembers what Tsukuyo looks like, with a scar down her cheek.

 

* * *

 

Sakata Gintoki comes and goes like a cat. The tea house was the only place she had seen him reside for more than five minutes. In and out he dips into brothels like so many other men. He is a distinguished warrior and as such he enjoys a high status.

The courtesans swoon whenever he comes. "He's the only soldier - or man, for that matter - who respects us as women," remarks a nearby prostitute as she paints her lips ruby red while behind her, an assistant carefully inserts the delicate assortment of hair ornaments into her coiffure. Rumors fly - he is a passionate lover, handles his drink like a gentleman, tips well, and has a notorious sweet tooth. Tsukuyo is intrigued about this strange patron and keeps an eye on him. Her chance comes exactly one week after she first spotted them at the tea house.

Three AM. Tsukuyo is busy throwing out unruly men from the establishment. Suddenly she spots the famed Shiroyasha from a distance, milling around a bar and her heart stopped for a moment. She swoops into a darkened crevice, oddly shy. Unfortunately, he notices.

"I can see you, ya know," he calls out. "Why hide?"

Terrified, she fakes a bravado. "Better for me to hide than to show myself."

"If you're not here to kill me than come here," he said. "I want to know who you are."

Because she is twenty - (that awkward phase between shedding the cautiousness of a teenager but not quite yet a complete adult!) - and not to mention a little too bold for her position, she steps into the bright moonlight. "Here I am. Ya happy now?"

He walks towards her, shoves his hands in his pockets, and lazily grins. She realizes belatedly that he's actually handsome, unlike most of the patrons here, even though his hair is a little messy and he's got dead fish-eyes.

"I figured someone was keeping an eye on me all this time I was here. But hell, I would have never figured that a complete babe like you would have been behind it."

"Keep talking, pal, and you'll be cruising for a bruising." Tsukuyo is _so_ not in the mood for guys hitting on her; it doesn't matter if they're a millionaire or some homeless vagrant. They all resemble the same trash to her.

"Oh come on. You didn't think I was going to be some stoic badass guy, right? I swear everyone expects me to be like that and - hey, don't go already - "

"I'm listening."

"This is one of the few places I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not."

"I'm glad ya can afford that luxury," Tsukuyo said, unsympathetic. "Everybody else here lies."

His lazy smile fades, but only by a little bit. "So what makes you more honest than anyone else?"

"I'm more of a truth-finder," she replies evenly. "And I'd say I'm pretty persuasive."

"So I've heard," he said. He's still smiling, and it's starting to annoy her for some reason.

"What brings you over here?" she asks curtly.

"The usual," Gintoki said pleasantly. "Beautiful women, delicious sake, having a good time. You know, that sort of thing."

Something told her that he'd been lying. Most of the patrons this time of night are usually drunk, or at the very least tipsy. But Sakata Gintoki was sober as he can be.

But it's still none of her business. If he hasn't caused any trouble, than really, what's the point of asking him questions this time of night?

"Hope you have a good night, then," she replied insincerely.

"Oh I will. Thanks for asking."

She turns on her heel and comes back to her master's house, disappointed. Sakata Gintoki is a man who can see the world, do things she will never do, and yet he _still_ thinks Yoshiwara is a paradise. Tsukuyo, though - _she_ sees the prostitutes wasting away. Either from syphilis, drugs, failed abortions, or old age. Pick your poison.

He's just like any other man who comes here, she thinks contemptuously. The Shiroyasha is only another example of men who resemble balloons: full of hot air.

 

* * *

 

He's heard of her existence, everybody has. The trick really was catching her at a moment where she wasn't paying any attention to you. The Courtesan of Death is one of Yoshiwara's strongest paramilitary soldiers. Rumors has it that if you caused any trouble, she'd run a blade neatly across your neck, no questions asked.

His observations are simple at first. Her blonde hair shone bright, her eyes were of an unusual color, and her body was voluptuous and sensual to even the oldest patrons of the floating city. Had not she marred her face, he guessed she would have progressed quickly into the ranks of the esteemed courtesan, fetching a high price for her services. Rumors had even gone around, saying she was born from a foreign devil; but if he was being honest, those rumors only made her more alluring. He's always been attracted to dangerous things.

He takes a sip of his sake while nodding to another courtesan politely. He's here in Yoshiwara to find people who can spy for him, which means he's got to earn the trust of some key political figureheads of this joint. This city is a hotbed for politics, filled with information that could turn the fate of this country upside down.

Gintoki's fame as the Shiroyasha makes his presence extremely risky, but also allows him to parade in the city with some freedom that might be unavailable to a lower ranked soldier. Since Yoshiwara remains neutral in the midst of a no-man's land during the Joui war, anything is fair game. Hyakka's job is to keep things orderly so that nobody ruins the fun. The King of the Night doesn't care as long as people have the money to spend.

While the courtesan next to him is pouring Gintoki another cup of sake, he enquires about the girl he met last night.

"Oh, you must mean Tsukuyo," the lady says.

"What about her?"

"She's the guardian of us all," the courtesan replied. A soft smile lights up her complexion. "She is the moon that illuminates this city."

Gintoki rolls around her name experimentally in his mouth. "Tsukuyo," he says, trying it out. It's a pretty name, he decides.

 

* * *

 

Jiraia instructs her to read a textbook over the various uses of the _niginata_ \- a spear with a blade attached to the end. It is a lethal weapon designed for a woman who could not as easily wield a full metal sword, and here she bitterly wanted to complain - the subtle sexism angers her. Yet like all the other times she swallows and complies, for her master is the one who pulled her out from the sea of decay.

At a non-descript teahouse she begins to pore over the words and her frustration melts away with a diagram of how to gut a man like a pig. Fascinating. She flips the page and devours the information.

"Boy, for a woman you sure are macabre."

She looks up.

Sakata Gintoki is sitting next to her. She snaps her book shut and flatly replies, "What do you want?"

"What, a man can't talk to a woman in this fine establishment?"

"You're in a red-light district," she replies. "Pick another."

"It's not like I saw anyone better looking," he said casually. "Oi, _onee-san_ \- can I have one choco-banana parfait? Thanks."

"Sakata-san, I'm not a courtesan," she said in chipped tones. "I'm not someone to be picked up while I pretend to be your lover for one night as I pour your sake into your cup. I can neither dance nor play a tune - "

"I got bored with those types anyway," he cut in cheerfully. "Sometimes all a man needs is a good fuck but everyone here is too classy for that sort of thing straightaway."

"You are tasteless," she said, disgusted.

"At least I'm honest," he interrupted. "You said everyone else lies - should I not lead by exception?"

"Lying is the only way to live here," Tsukuyo said.

"I don't think you believe in what you're saying right now," he said.

"Don't be presumptuous."

"I'm not."

"Prove it."

"That scar," he pointed out. "It's too smooth for it to be an accident or an injury inflicted from an enemy in battle. From the look of it, you were probably behind it - you scarred yourself so that you wouldn't have to settle down as a courtesan, or worse, a prostitute."

He's unfortunately observant, and even worse than that, correct.

"Just because my face looks like this doesn't mean I'm honest - "

"No, but you're reading a book about killing people rather blatantly in a teashop. You can do things freely without being chained."

She tries to divert from the topic. "You don't even know my name."

"Oh, but I do. Tsukuyo, isn't it?"

He's pleased to see her open her mouth, a little "o" of surprise. Then her eyes narrow.

"Why are you talking to me?"

"Because I'm interested in you."

Tsukuyo doesn't bat an eye. Many men have propositioned her, asked her what her price is. She smiles sardonically - perhaps to say " _Oh really_?"

"I'm very sorry," she said. Her eyebrow is raised and her voice is more polite than the first time she dared speaking. "But I can't say the same."

"I'll be changing that," he said mildly.

"I'd like to see you try," she countered.

"What if I could give you what you want?" he asked.

"You can't give me what I want," she scoffed. "No one can."

She stood up and gives a small bow to Sakata because he is a decent patron and doesn't have a history of treating the courtesans with abuse. Conversely, she also leaves, because keeping her virginity is her way of rebelling against the status quo.

"Good-bye, Sakata-san."

"I'll find out what you want," Gintoki calls out to her. "Everybody's a prostitute in this game of life. We just have different prices."

He grinned after the door shut after her. Everyone's staring at him, but he doesn't care. Already he's intrigued by this icy blonde, this mysterious bombshell. This girl can keep him on his toes, and it invigorates him better than any of the finest sake he's had.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Tsukuyo hates this city - a glittering fool's gold, filled with all of humanity's worst virtues - but has nowhere else to go.

It is a dark secret to stumble across to see your mentor reduced to a mere concubine. Hinowa does not say anything; they would have both their heads lopped off if they so much as breathed a word of it. But her body betrays scars, a Yato's way of marking his mate. Tsukuyo knows the reason why Hinowa cannot see any of her former customers, why Hosen no longer asks for a different courtesan each night. It is Hinowa who is locked away in the highest tower, kept guard by a monster.

She hates Hosen. Hates him helplessly, because he's responsible for the oppression of every woman locked up behind bars in this city. But it's a secret, resentful hate that boils her up at night when she knows that she can't visit Hinowa without strict supervision. She's punished for the crime of Hinowa wanting a child, a child whose mother had long passed away. It eats her alive, knowing that Tsukuyo can't protect the one she loves most in this cursed city. She hates Hosen when he calls her in to do his killing for him, to eject the vagrants out of this city that he's raped and pillaged to keep. Hates him knowing that he'll live here for eternity, even if Yoshiwaran women and alcohol are polluting his body. After all, he's a monster; she's seen days where people have tested his temper, never knowing that the wrath of a Yato was lethal to humans. Even her master bows his head to the King of the Night.

Night shift comes, and she's on patrol again. Sometimes she uses different disguises to conceal her presence. They call her the Courtesan of Death because she swoops in during the night like a Shinigami unseen. There's no legal restraints in this city except for the threat of her, the Hyakka troops, and Hosen himself.

She looks up. Hinowa is still sitting serenely in the balcony of the highest tower in Yoshiwara, even though there is no smile on her face. No matter how long Tsukuyo stares at her, Hinowa won't stare back at her, even if they're sisters at heart.

 

* * *

 

"Oi, Tsukuyo - you've got company."

"Who is it?"

"Some white perm-head. Says he's wants to see you."

"Tell him I'm not interested."

"He says he won't leave until you come out."

Tsukuyo groaned. "God, this guy won't stop following me! Another reason for Shishou to yell at me again..." Grumbling, she made her way outside of Jiraia's dojo. Gintoki was waiting for her, dressed casually in a gray haori.

"What do you want?"

"Not even a hello, I see. Well, I'll get to the point then. I've got an idea," he said. "You ready for it?"

"I don't have time for ideas," is her first deadpan reply. Tsukuyo bandages her hand and ties a knot, flexing her fingers so that her palm is protected from the nicks of knives. "My job is to protect everyone in this city. I ain't here ta play around with ideas."

"If I could rescue Hinowa from that tower, would you listen to me?" Gintoki's smile is too sanguine for her liking. Her lavender eyes narrow. "What do you mean?" she asks, cagey.

"I asked around. You two are actually really sisters, aren't you?"

It's official: she doesn't like him. Tsukuyo is a lone wolf, someone who works best alone. She's ruffled that someone's trying to dig into her psyche, and she hates that this moron is behind it. "Does that matter?" she asks, shrugging. "And if you're asking me to get her to pour you a drink, forget about it."

"I don't give a damn about things like that," Gintoki replies. "I ran across Hinowa's son the other day."

Her lungs contract as if she's run out of air.

"What?"

"Cute kid, he tried to rob me. I later found out that he wanted my money in order to see his mother." Gintoki can't help himself from helping other people. "I figured I'd at least get him a meeting with this Sun of Yoshiwara, whatever her name is."

"It's impossible," Tsukuyo said curtly. "You know who runs this city, right?"

"Yeah. Big fella, ain't he?"

"The biggest. I don't care if you're the _Shiroyasha_ ," she says, throwing his title back in spite, just because she can - "No one can take him down. He won't let her out from the tower until she dies."

"Maybe I can't take him down by myself. But if we pair together, why not try?"

Her answer is straight to the point: "Never."

"You know every alley in this city." Gintoki is unfazed. "You know who's supporting which group, and you know how to kill human beings. Honestly, if you were a man I'm pretty sure Takasugi would have recruited you to fight for the Jouishishi - "

"I'm still not interested."

"Tsukuyo, you're gonna let someone as beautiful as Hinowa rot away in that tower?"

"This is _treachery_!" she hisses. "I took an oath to protect her, but there's no point if I give away my life for no reason!"

"It was already treachery when you took in all those beat up prostitutes under your wing," Gintoki says, quietly.

"How the _hell_ do ya know that?"

He smiles slowly. "People talk. Especially if you get them to drink. I know you a lot more than you think."

"... What do you know, then?"

"I know that you're probably one hell of a shinobi. I know that you were sold here when you were a kid, but worked your way up into the paramilitary. You made a vow to protect Hinowa, the Sun of Yoshiwara before you were initiated into the Hyakka. You don't believe in this system but you'll try to protect everyone who works here, and because of that, you're a silent hero. Hosen trusts you to do his bidding but you don't follow all the rules."

"So you've done some research. Big deal," Tsukuyo says. She folds her arms together, making her seem bossier than she was. "What would you get out of it? I know you hotshots love throwin' away your lives for stupid causes, but you'd have ta be a real big idiot to even think about takin' down Hosen."

"I'm not your average guy. I've already fought with his own kind before."

Against her own will, Tsukuyo is intrigued. "You have?"

"Yeah. You ever questioned why it's so dark in this place?"

"Sure. It's a better heaven for men when it's dark every day, ain't it?"

Gintoki shook his head. "It's because Hosen is a Yato. And they hate the sun. If you open that ceiling, you're gonna roast him alive."

"Really."

"What, you don't believe me?"

"Don't have any reason to," she replied evenly. "What's in it for you?"

"A happy kid. The nobility of my heart."

"Listen here, you." Tsukuyo glares at him. "No one does anything for _free_ here."

He rolled his eyes. "Weren't you the one who said that we love throwing our lives for stupid causes? This is one of them."

"Tsukuyo, who are you talking to?" Jiraia steps out of his dojo. She pauses, thinks up of some excuse. Her master doesn't tolerate lateness or insubordination.

"Just some soldier who wouldn't leave me alone," she says.

"I'm not just any soldier," Gintoki corrected her. "I'm the _Shiroyasha_."

She snorts. _I bet Shishou could take him down if he was up for it._

"Well, I'm pleased you've patronized this city, Shiroyasha-dono, and I hope you're enjoying your stay." Jiraia actually smiling? Tsukuyo was confused.

"I am," Gintoki replied slowly, but he doesn't return Jiraia's smile. Instead he frowns. "And you are... ?"

"Jiraia, of the Oniwabanshuu. Please, excuse me and my student. We have jobs to attend to."

Tsukuyo turns away to walk with her master, grateful that he's cut off the conversation between her and Gintoki. What he proposed was tantamount to betrayal, especially in the Hyakka organization. Break one rule - any rule - and then the offender would have been subject to execution.

Hinowa was only kept alive because Hosen loved her, and even so, her tendons had been cut so she could not escape any longer. A slight shiver runs down Tsukuyo's neck and already she knows that she's walking a fine line between legality and treason. Even Jiraia wouldn't approve of her taking drugged-up whores under Hyakka's wing. The only reason why they come in is because Tsukuyo trains them in secret. They pretend they don't know who Tsukuyo is when they're initiated into the organization.

Still, his words aren't easily forgotten.

_If you open that ceiling, you're gonna roast him alive._

_I'm not your average guy. I've already fought with his own kind before._

_I'm not just any soldier. I'm the **Shiroyasha**._

It was true, that she could see his quiet confidence and his own charisma. For some reason she was starting to doubt herself, rather than that strange samurai that came with his own notoriety.

"Shishou," she started off slowly, "Did you know who that man was?"

"Perhaps."

Tsukuyo scowls. Jiraia isn't the type of man to give straightforward answers.

"Well, in any case, he seemed to be a big talker," she says, testing out the waters. "I suppose he's one of those lunatics fightin' off the Amanto."

"Lunatic or no, you'd ought not to associate with him." His tone is stern. "Remember what I said."

"Yes, Shishou." Again she remembers her job and the oath she swore over the scar she's carved out on her face.

 _I will protect Yoshiwara_ , she recites to herself, silently. _I will protect the foundation of which this city stands on, even if it kills me._

 

* * *

 

"Gintoki, we don't have time to be fooling around in Yoshiwara."

"I found a lead, Zura, and despite _you_ having a stick up your ass, we might have to drag you down there one day."

"Lead?" Behind them Sakamoto is sharpening his sword with a whetstone. "What kind of lead are ya talkin' about, Kintoki?"

The samurai makes a small "tch" sound. "I found this woman who trains under somebody who belongs to the Oniwabanshuu."

Sakamoto whistles. "That easy? I heard those ninjas don't pop up during the daytime."

"Well, it's an underground city that most decent samurai wouldn't venture to go to," Katsura replies, frowning in disapproval. Out of all four of them, he'd been the only one to stick to the old-fashioned ideals that'd been handed down to them from temple school.

Gintoki takes a swig of bourbon whiskey from a flask. "Zura, have you forgotten? A man without a master or a sword ain't a decent samurai anymore. Finding a decent samurai would be like finding a needle in a haystack these days."

"Don't forget the reason why we're here."

All three of them look back. Takasugi Shinsuke had entered the room of the small inn they've been staying in. All four of them had been busy with reconnaissance, scouting out any possible channels of information that might lend to Shoyou's rescue. The three nodded in acknowledgement of his recent rise of commander status.

"Gintoki, you said that you found someone who knows a member of the Oniwabanshuu?" Takasugi enquired.

"Hell yes. Remember that blonde we saw in that tea house? Turns out, she's actually a student of his."

"Interesting."

"But, unfortunately, she's kind of a bitch."

"It's probably because you tried to hit on her, Kintoki - "

"Did not," Gintoki protested. The other men stared at him, and then he grinned sheepishly. "Okay, maybe a little."

Takasugi glared at him. "Your information is useless if we can't attack the core of the Oniwabanshuu. And you've attracted their attention on top of that."

"Relax, pretty boy, I'm just another air-headed soldier to her," Gintoki replied easily. "I'll stay here for further recon."

"I refuse," Takasugi objected. "I'd rather prefer Zura soliciting information than you partying around. I can't trust you."

"It's not Zura, it's Katsura," the other samurai objected. Nobody listened to him.

"You can't do that," Gintoki said, aghast. "He's going to spill the beans. He can't resist women."

"Too true," Sakamoto said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Remember that time where he nearly confessed to all our battle tactics to that widow from _Shimonoseki_?"

"That was not my fault! I was under the influence of a drug!"

"Drug as in drinking," Takasugi corrected, sighing.

"The point is, _I_ can hold my own drink. He can't. In a town like Yoshiwara, sometimes that's all that matters."

"I agree," Sakamoto said. "Kintoki's best suited for this job. It's better to sacrifice one man - albeit one worth a thousand - rather than our own group focused on a personal agenda."

"You sure you can handle it?" Takasugi asked.

"Absolutely. Either way, you've been gone too long from our militia. Our men are probably getting anxious."

"Keep up the flattery and I'll cut your head off," Takasugi said, scowling.

 

* * *

 

Despite Takasugi's trepidations, it had already been decided that Gintoki would remain in the city for another week, if only because Yoshiwara was so close to Edo, the nation's capital. Communications could be reasonably expected to come quick, as Sakamoto had already made plans to secure additional supplies and weaponry for the militia. In the meantime, four of them had been busy recruiting soldiers, Katsura having made the best progress especially in the country villages where people had rarely heard news of the Joui progression in the war. It was only too tempting to enlist after seeing the legendary Shiroyasha engage in direct combat with any foe silly enough to challenge him in a duel of swords.

Too easy, in fact, that it made Gintoki downright guilty. He didn't like war. The true fighters, Shoyou-sensei had noted quietly, were those who despised unnecessary bloodshed. It was probably why he joked around with his men as much as he could, flirted with as many women as he could get away with, and challenged as many people as he could to a drinking contest whenever there was _sake_ to be found. He rationalized it by saying he was twenty-two - the prime age for any hot blooded male. If he died tomorrow he would have preferred to have lived life as fully as anybody else his age could. He was stronger than men twice his size and though he was past the point of arrogance, he wasn't beyond the occasional boast.

It was an hour after supper that Sakamoto decided to sit next to him. "UNO?" he offered.

Gintoki grimaced. "If you care, Katsura's over there on sentry duty."

"Ahahahaha - guess that's a no, then." Sakamoto stowed the cards away and sat next to him, stretching his limbs out. After a moment, he sighed.

"So what's the real reason you wanna stay in Yoshiwara, huh? Can't be as simple as a lead."

"I found this street orphan in Edo," Gintoki said. He laid back, head lying against his arms while he looked at the stars. "Kid wants to see his mom. Only thing is that she's one of the top courtesans in town; she can't see him because they'd probably kill her."

There wasn't any point in telling the story to somebody like Katsura or Takasugi. Neither of them understood sentimentality when both of them had been indoctrinated with ideas of bushido - or dying early. Sakamoto was a bit different, though. He could keep a secret when he knew it was important.

"We can't rescue everyone, ya know," Sakamoto said slowly, but he wasn't reproaching Gintoki either.

"I figured. Which is why I'll leave in three days if nothing happens over there."

"You won't take advantage of the week?"

"Well, hell - I'd love to, but everyone has these expectations." Gintoki kept on staring at the night constellations. "Pull off one miracle, and everyone expects you to pull off twenty in the future."

"True that," Sakamoto agreed. "What are ya gonna do after the war, Kintoki?"

Gintoki rolled his eyes at the deliberate mistake. "Honestly? I'm gonna open my own temple school, just like Shoyou-sensei. Or do somethin' dumb like getting married and having ten kids."

"Kids? You can't even take care of yourself." Sakamoto laughed heartily.

"Shut up, Tatsuma. As long as we're gonna go into hysterics, I'd buy me a barrel of strawberry ice cream. And then sleep for a week."

"I'd go into space," Sakamoto said thoughtfully.

"You'd suffocate without oxygen."

"Oh please. Ya don't read much, but I do. They've got these air containers that let humans like us breath in space..."

Gintoki closed his eyes. _You could never get Tatsuma to shut up about space_ , he thought drowsily to himself, and began to breath in the night air, half-heartedly listening to the voice of his friend...

 

* * *

 

_to be continued_


	4. Chapter 4

On her off day, Tsukuyo slipped off to the elevators, ostensibly for a "check-up", but in reality it was to figure out whether there was a way to open the ceilings of Yoshiwara. The older courtesans sometimes talked of a time where the city had been glorious above ground, free from Amanto rule, when they still could smell the sweet cherry blossoms and feel the sun on their faces. But not too long after that, it was enough for them to fall silent as Hosen had imprisoned them, never intending for them to escape.

Indeed, Tsukuyo was only too careful to never betray his trust under the shroud of Jiraia, whom had already turned his back on the Oniwabanshuu. Life was too precarious, and sometimes Tsukuyo dreamed of a life above where the scar meant nothing and she could hope for a happier life, one without killing thugs or seeing women dying from childbirth. She felt older than her years, and yet understood she was luckier than most. Either you had to choose a life of constant vigilance, or engage in a continuous cycle of carnal deception.

Carefully making her way through the empty pipes, she took a lantern with her, wary of every step. It was crowded, this city, what with its constant coitus, its noise and the loud bickering of men and women. And neither could it expand in space, for it had been built in an old shipyard underneath the earth. It was only then, in the dim silence, that she finally let out a small sigh of relief.

Quiet. She adored the quiet, could never get enough of the quiet. Perhaps that was why she knew all the secret passageways and of the ancient alleyways that even the oldest inhabitants of the city could never reach on their own. Many a day she had spent exploring, simply walking and taking notes of which entrance led to another. Vividly she had remembered stumbling across the entrance to Edo years ago, after walking four hours straight through a tunnel with only a paper lantern in her hand. For some reason it had never occurred to her to run away.

 _If I did that I'd start at Point A again_ , Tsukuyo reminded herself. _I wouldn't have a place to belong to, and I wouldn't have anything to eat. And besides, Hinowa would want to know where I've been._ She was more rebellious than would have been desired for any member of the Hyakka, yet not enough to take heroic actions worthy of merit.

But these days, Sakata Gintoki was making it hard for her remain obedient to the city, and she hated that. Constantly, she would remember his words.

_If you open that ceiling, you're gonna roast him alive._

She made her way into an old, dusty room - a place far from prying eyes. Glancing around, she could spy a few handles, ancient Amanto keyboards, all written in a language she couldn't speak. It'd been caked with dust, completely abandoned. She wondered if this place had been active since the beginning of the Joui war. Had there been spaceships back when she still lived above the surface? She couldn't remember.

_Stop it, Tsukuyo. Stop being silly and stop wasting your time. You could be teaching other girls how to defend themselves._

She frowned. _It's not as if I'm gonna do it_ , she argued with herself.

_Still. That boy spells danger. He could get you killed if you even slipped for a second._

_I know_ , Tsukuyo replied. _Believe me, I know_.

And yet, she bookmarks this place in the back of her head for future reference. It's a bitter fantasy anyways, imagining the downfall of Hosen, rather than dreaming of a man to sweep her off her feet.

 

* * *

 

Gintoki knows Katsura and Takasugi like the back of his hand. He doesn't think they're complicated people, unlike the vast majority of the soldiers under their command. In fact, he'd say they're simple-headed fools who can't appreciate what life has to offer them now, rather than later.

Katsura is stuck-up, a princely fledgling who still reads the texts of olden samurai philosophers, his notes written neatly in between the pages of the green notebooks all three of them carry under their haoris. Gintoki carries it around as motivation, mostly because he wants to rescue Shoyou-sensei sooner than later. Takasugi carries it as a physical manifestation of his own _bushido_. They never take it out in front of anybody else, except for maybe Sakamoto when he's being a little too invasive. Somehow, their agenda has gone beyond the pursuit of Shoyou. And while any student would have condemned their teacher for dragging them into a war that is seemingly useless, they can't forget what he's done for all three of them. Because of their teacher, they've had a home to call their own, and a father to rebuke them appropriately. And instead of growing up ill-mannered and undisciplined like other orphans in the streets, they've grown up to be splendid samurai, still blessed with youth and limitless talent. All three of them are magnificent fighters, unaware of the fear they inspire once they step onto the battlefield. The only human being that comes even close to their potential is Sakamoto, who silently acknowledges their presence with special swordsmanship of his own.

Lately, Gintoki has been questioning the point of the war, and can't seem to grasp his head around why the samurai can't allow the Amanto to become allies. In this manner he felt unusually distant from both Katsura and Takasugi.

Part of the reason he had wanted to stay here in Yoshiwara was a desperate want to _think_ , to _feel_ on his own without the pressure of his own reputation. Here was the opposite of death, in copulating, in seduction, of all things ordinary that seemed extraordinary to him. In Yoshiwara it mattered not that he could slay a hundred beasts without injury. This was a city that flourished on vice, far away from the approval of any daimyo or Shogun. Here was a city where some strange semblance of life still went on, untouched by the ravages of hungry soldiers or raging Amantos. Even if it is because the Amanto protects it thoroughly well, he doesn't care about any of that. Just seeing people mingling around is better than everything else he's seen in the war.

Gintoki can't remember the last time he stumbled across a village that hadn't burned to the ground. And his throat seizes up for a second, because he's lived through several hells before, the Kansai Purge being one of them. Some of his classmates had been hung, flayed. Their carcasses had been left for the dogs, with nobody there brave (or insane) enough to give them a proper burial.

His argument, he thinks, is that only a certain group of Amanto is to blame. Takasugi will flat out disagree, and tell him that all Amanto is to blame for the downfall of Japan. Furthermore, the samurai are patriotic to their home; they are all old-fashioned in the way that won't allow them to fully assimilate into a new society. After all, every soldier has lost somebody in the Purge, vowing to extract vengeance on those who deserve it.

"Lost in thought, sir?" A man offers to pour him another cup of tea, and he nods. Gintoki likes these tea houses, where servant girls will play their shamisens and old merchants will haggle the price of boiling water and crack watermelon seeds in between their teeth. It reminds him of the countryside, of where he used to roam freely as a boy long ago. It's a place where a man can think. So think he does.

Half a cup of tea later, he rises onwards to Edo. There's someone he has to meet before he goes back to the old business of making war all over again.

 

* * *

 

Seita isn't much older than the age where Shoyou took him in. He figures that's why this kid out of all the other kids strike him as unusually resilient. Pickpocketing strangers to see a parent? He finds this strangely endearing. Gintoki's glad that he hasn't yet lost his sense of empathy yet, like it has for some other men.

"You ready?" Gintoki asks.

Seita nods. "Yeah."

"Alright, then." Kid's been saving up but Gintoki knows that those guards are robbing him. It's almost as heinous as taking candy away from a baby.

The elevator closes behind them, Gintoki's sword tucked into his belt. He's in a mood to kick some ass, but restrains himself. Then he grins once he realizes that causing trouble in the city means that Tsukuyo will show up. Oh sure, maybe some troublesome fellows will catch up to him, but it'd be worth it to catch a glimpse of her face. For Gintoki, having a beautiful woman never stopped him from wanting another.

When they finally enter the gates of Yoshiwara, he decides to head straight to the tower where everyone sees Hinowa, day in and day out. There are guards in front, and they relax when they see Seita. Kids usually don't roam all that often, not in a place like this. Then Gintoki spies two paramilitary soldiers, standing close by near the ceiling. Unlike the two blokes in front, he can tell they are way more professional. Their eyes are trained on him, suspicious - he figures it might have been his fault for asking Tsukuyo of something she can't deliver. No matter.

"Wait, kid, don't give them your money."

Seita looked up, questioning Gintoki. "Eh? Why?"

"Because they've been swindling you all this time," he replied, and punches a guard in the temple. A split second later, he expertly kicks another in the stomach. Both of them keel over, nearly unconscious. Grinning, he looks up and unsheathes his sword, ready to fight with all the bravado the White Demon can afford him.

 

* * *

 

 

"There's been a... disruption, at the Sun Tower," Hosen said dryly, in the midst of chaos. Jiraia had been summoned. "Take care of it, won't you?"

"Yes, my lord." The ninja bowed and then leapt out of the window, gone with the wind. Hosen poured himself a double shot of plum sake, and rubbed his temples, irritated. Lately he'd been having trouble, not in terms of physical ailments, but there had been threats of it burning down due to insurgents. Again, the temptation to close Yoshiwara from human patrons was a thought that resurfaced over and over. But then people would riot, and he couldn't have that, tempting as it was to go on a mass killing rage.

Hosen was getting closer to becoming a hundred years old. Frankly, it was unnatural for a Yato to live that long, even if he _was_ a male, and blessed with strength exceeding his peers. Yatos weren't supposed to live longer than human beings - the high consumption and usage of energy in their muscles quickly wore out their bodies. He settled in Yoshiwara for a quiet retirement, away from battle hardened Yatos itching to reclaim the title of King. Not that he was a coward - he justifiably felt that he deserved a few decades of quiet and peace before dying as a decrepit old man.

And now the humans would never stop resisting against the conquered. For almost twenty years, the Japanese samurai had been staging sieges and violent revolts against the Amanto. It was their name for the foreign species, inhumane and incomprehensible to their narrow minded thinking, and to them, barbarians.

He scoffed at this. He believed it was only a matter of time before the last vestiges of rebellion would die out.

 

* * *

 

"I'm here to request the most beautiful woman in this city," Gintoki said grandly, pointing his sword at the receptionists sitting behind the front desk. "I want her to pour me a cup of sake while we discuss poetry - and I'd also like to show her son."

The lady in front of him assessed him with a cool eye. "She's off limits."

"Heh, so even women are cold-hearted in this city?"

"You won't get far," the woman replied. And as soon as she'd spoken, several kunai were thrown behind his back. Gintoki fended them off effortlessly with his sword, turning his head around and thoroughly expecting Tsukuyo to stand behind him.

He was disappointed when she wasn't there. Now he was a bit hurt.

"Oi, what's this sort of grand welcome?" he asked, frowning, grasping Seita by the boy's shoulder. "I suppose you all are underestimating who I am, but that's _cold_."

"Do you know who you're fighting against?" another member of the Hyakka asked, her voice muffled by her mask.

"Absolutely," Gintoki said, and now he begun to smile, reminded of what he must do. "And I intend on destroying him completely."


	5. Chapter 5

"They're called steroids," Sakamoto said to Gintoki, while the two were on a private mission to Kyoto. "You take 'em and you can grow muscles faster than anything else you can do naturally."

"That's fucked up," Gintoki said, balefully glancing at the syringes Tatsuma had been carrying in a small leather bag. "I don't care how well they work, I ain't taking that - whatever it is."

"We're losing men," Sakamoto said, shrugging at Gintoki's lackluster response. "I've been offering them to our soldiers - they've been recovering at twice the normal rate."

"Does Takasugi know? And hang on, are _you_ taking these?"

"Who cares? _I'm_ not taking them - I'm doing just fine. It's not like you or me need it."

Gintoki sighed. "This isn't right."

"What, like we're all worried about dying from old age?" Sakamoto laughed bitterly. "I'm trying to protect everybody. If bargaining with those monsters means I'm gonna see a bit of road rage or early heart attacks, who cares if we win wars?"

"We're not even winning."

"Then this ought've changed their mind, huh?" The quiet tension between the two was starting up again - and Gintoki could feel it coming.

He sighed, knowing it was wiser to remain diplomatic. "I guess."

There was a hard glint coming from Sakamoto as he steered the spaceship above the gray clouds. "Gintoki, I don't s'pose you know what I went through to get these, right?"

"No, but - "

"I bargained my sister's locket. For a hundred injections."

Gintoki opened his mouth, but a lump came to his throat. "Tatsuma..."

"No one ever appreciates what I do," he muttered in a low voice.

"That ain't true, it's just - "

"Just what?" Tatsuma finally looked at Gintoki with an expression settled firmly between frustration and anger. "I came here to win, and _now_ you're fucking think we don't have a chance. You told me that we were _guaranteed_ to win, goddammit - "

"That ain't it at all," Gintoki said firmly. "Look, you're tired. Hell, you forgot to call me Kintoki."

"I'm not makin' this up in my head!" Sakamoto protested, a little heated.

"You're not. But Bakasugi and Zura have been getting to you lately. When was the last time you slept, anyhow?"

Sakamoto ran a hand through his wild curly hair, sighing deeply. "I dunno. A day ago? Maybe it was two."

"Get some sleep."

"Gintoki - "

"Do it or I'll knock you upside the head," he ordered. "There's a bunk downstairs."

 

* * *

 

"Well, Tatsuma, I'll never quite forgive you for not asking us if it was a good idea to introduce cortisone shots to our soldiers, but I'll let you off the hook for giving me a dose," Gintoki said, shaken by his abilities.

And quite suddenly, he found the entire lobby eerily quiet. Gintoki had knocked out every female soldier who had come to attack him, leaving behind an entire room of unconscious bodies, weapons flung chaotically all over the wooden floor. It had happened too fast, too efficiently, that it almost left him nauseous with his newfound power.

 _Those steroids are no joke_ , Gintoki thought to himself. He wondered in an abstract way if he had sacrificed years of his life in exchange for the muscle mass he'd gained in less than two days.

Seita looked at Gintoki in wonder. "Are you... some demon?" the boy asked, shrinking away from Gintoki as doubt and mistrust grew in his small eyes.

"No," Gintoki said flatly. For some reason the moniker of the Shiroyasha gave him no joy this moment. Previously he would have gloried in it, would have basked in the attention that the legend provided him, but here he stood from a pile of female bodies - injured, perhaps even marred, and undoubtedly unconscious of their surroundings. There was no point in glorifying a man who defeated women. It was cowardly and disgraceful, even for someone like he whom held unconventional bushido.

He made his way quickly to the elevator and pushed the button to go up. "Come on, Seita, we haven't had any time to lose."

 

* * *

 

"He's powerful," Jiraia said, twenty stories above the scene. He folded the telescope and stowed it away his pocket. "Tsukuyo, you must warn Hinowa. It seems as if he intends to go to her directly."

"Yes, Shishou. Shall I call more guards?"

"Would they be useful? We need not waste lives."

"Yes, I suppose not. Where are you heading to, Shishou?"

"Out."

"... Shishou? What do you mean?"

"I see no point in intervening, and it'd be a waste of my time to take down such a demon warrior." Jiraia glanced at Tsukuyo. "Hosen will finish him off. In the meantime make sure that none of the women are hurt."

"Shishou! What on earth - "

"A life without Amanto is no less peaceful than a life with them. I do not care for the matter."

She swallowed. Jiraia held disdain for those who served under masters, preferring to work under the guise of self-sufficiency. In private he held the views that Hosen saw Yoshiwara as his own property like a child with a toy, and expressed contempt towards his lord's obsession with Hinowa. Why he had stayed here, Tsukuyo had no idea.

"... I suppose I'll see you at the dojo when it's all over?"

He nodded. "Prepare me a full report when you get back."

"Yes, Shishou."

Unbeknownst to Tsukuyo, she had no idea that this was a test of loyalty.

 

* * *

 

A familiar wave of sadness washed over Tsukuyo as she remembered the string of events that led to Hinowa's imprisonment.

It wasn't Hinowa's fault. It was simply a consequence of living under the dictatorship of a monster. No one could blame Hinowa for wanting a child - in fact, the entire quarter whom she shared living spaces with had openly agreed to supervise Matsu's childbirth. The poor girl was so young, and the lover whom had impregnated her had abandoned her ever since he had found out about her incoming pregnancy. Hinowa had planned to ask a patron to take the child to a caretaker after the childbirth had passed, but it was not to be so. The mother had died not too long after, and Hinowa had grieved for the girl.

Hosen had discovered the entire affair and was outraged that anyone would conspire to break the law under his rule. It was then that Hinowa escaped with the baby, only to be bought back on the condition that none of the other courtesans would suffer for her actions.

And to everyone's horror, Hosen had stripped her legs, making sure that Hinowa could no longer walk. She was banished to a far off room where she was forbidden from speaking to any man or woman save for Tsukuyo, whom was only allowed on the condition that she would forever prevent Hinowa from escaping Yoshiwara once more. Hosen's rage over what he considered betrayal had not subsided for years, and he would even degrade Hinowa's body by taking her to bed every so often. The wounds would be apparent once Tsukuyo ordered Hinowa to undress in front of her.

"This is horrible," Tsukuyo would say as she smoothed healing ointment over Hinowa's bruised skin.

"It doesn't hurt a bit," Hinowa said, smiling sadly, but the two of them knew it was a lie. "Oh don't cry, Tsukuyo dear."

But it'd been too late. The tears flowed down Tsukuyo's face freely and she was too upset to continue bandaging Hinowa's wounds. Her beautiful sister had been torn away from her and she could do nothing about it. Everything that she had worked for - the oath she had made over her scar, her training with Jiraia - had been completely useless. She could not protect Hinowa anymore.

Some part of her childhood had died then and there. The naivety of her whom once believed that Yoshiwara could be saved shattered into a thousand pieces.

 

* * *

 

The Tsukuyo who walked towards the tallest tower was no longer a girl whom wished to be saved by a man. She could only rely on luck.

She knocked on Hinowa's door, softly calling out, "Hinowa? It's me."

"Come in."

Tsukuyo unlocked the door with a heavy golden key, pushing the doors open before slipping in quietly. As had been custom for the last eight years, Hinowa was sitting with her legs tucked below, in front of the balcony and peering below the street where merchants and patrons walked freely in the street.

"Did Hosen give you permission to visit me?" she asked softly, her voice musical and feminine.

"No."

"You must make it quick, then. I believe there was a commotion down below."

"I came here to protect you."

Hinowa's rose-colored lips quirked up in melancholy, her eyes landing on Tsukuyo. "What would a _soldier_ want with someone like me?"

"Who knows?" The other woman lit up her pipe, breathing in the comforting smoke to settle her unease. "But it's best if I'm here with you."

Hinowa nodded, her head bowed. "Today I thought... that something might happen."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a storm coming," Hinowa said, turning her head back to the window once more. "I can feel it."

 

* * *

 

The halls were dark and empty once Gintoki had reached the top floor. As he stepped off the elevator, his senses were prickling. One not to avoid his survivor instinct honed after a year of constant war, he unsheathed his sword.

Not a second later a knife was firmly lodged into the wooden pillar, mere centimeters away from his head.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "Show yourself!"

It was against her protocol to show herself. And yet Tsukuyo could not help it. She wanted to see the boy that Hinowa had sacrificed her livelihood for. She stepped out of the crevice, revealing her form in the midst of shadowy darkness.

"Oh," she said coolly. "It's you."

Gintoki was not as forgiving. With a flick of his wrist, he pointed his sword at her neck. "What are you doing up here?"

"My job. Do you believe you can simply show up here?" she asked. "You endangered Seita when you came up here."

"You'd rather not take a risk at all," he replied, irritated. "I gave you a chance to change the world. And you'd rather live in this cage of oppression."

Instead of paying any attention to him, she looked at Seita, who was trembling. "Your mother is in that room."

"Will you kill me if I go inside there?" the boy asked, his voice shaking in fear.

"No."

"Are there assassins in there?"

"No."

And with boyish courage, Seita took a deep breath and pushed open the door. It closed with a clang, reverberating across the long and empty hallway, leaving behind Tsukuyo who still glanced coolly at the metal sword pointed at her neck. Slowly, and not without some distrust, Gintoki lowered it, no doubt harboring suspicion for her motives.

"What are you playin' at?" he asked gruffly, sheathing his sword.

"I'm only here ta pay a favor for a very old friend," she said. Her mouth finally dislodged the pipe, and she held it between her two fingers, blowing smoke in the opposite direction. "My master has decided not to pursue you."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Well that's one less enemy that I'll have to worry about," Gintoki sighed.

"You thought about taking down _Shishou_?" Tsukuyo laughed darkly. "You must be joking."

"I'm not. Your master was part of the organization who burned down my school, and killed my village." Gintoki fixed her a hard stare. "I bear you no grudge, but this is part of my vengeance, and if I'll have to kill you to get to him, I will."

She paused, sensing he was serious. "There wouldn't be any point to that. He's already turned his backs on the Oniwabanshuu."

"All the same, if I ever find out he was part of the Kansai Purge... "

"You won't." Tsukuyo replied curtly. "He never talks about his past."

She'd never heard Jiraia speak of anything except of things that were directly correlated to her training. It was either a new weapon she had to master, of ninja techniques she was required to excel in, or of disguises that would allow her to kill others. He was uninterested in politicians, and she could not recall the last time she had seen her master partaking in any activity other than patrolling the city or teaching his students.

Gintoki remained unconvinced. "Who would, in a city like yours?"

"It's not _my_ city."

"Tsukuyo, forgive me for saying this, but you wouldn't leave Yoshiwara even if someone offered you a billion yen." Gintoki hunkered down, sitting next to the door. "You're chained to this place, as I am to my own master."

His insight into her personality galled her. He read her like a book. He had always read her mind and yet he was the one man in the world from whom she would like to hide her real thoughts. And perhaps it was more infuriating that he would still be willing to extend the hand of friendship, when she would have thoroughly preferred to be alone, away from people she cared about.

He took out a flask of alcohol and took a swig, fortifying himself. "Want some?"

"I make it a point to never such accept things from men," she said shortly.

"Suit yourself." Gintoki took another swig and then stowed away the flask in his pocket.

A few minutes passed in silence as the two of them waited for Seita to come out of Hinowa's bedroom. Tsukuyo went to replace the tobacco in her pipe as she smoked another round, and Gintoki took the time to thoroughly examine the blonde whom refused to sit next to him either out of spite or pride.

"What the hell are ya lookin' at?" she asked rudely, once she caught him staring.

"Nothing," he said, lying through his teeth. "But you ain't bad looking either."

"I'm gonna forget you ever said that," she replied. Crossing her arms she took another puff of her pipe. "It's probably time for Seita to go home now."

"Do we really have to cut his time short?" Gintoki asked. "It's been years since he's seen his mom, y'know."

"You wanna see the kid gutted like a pig?"

"No, but - "

"Then you two better escape. I know a good entryway so that you don't have ta take the elevators."

He swallowed hard. "Seita can't see her again?"

"If he wants his mother to live, then yeah."

"This ain't no way to live," Gintoki pleaded. "Surely you could sneak him in again."

"I couldn't, not on my life." Tsukuyo's eyes narrowed. "I'm already doin' enough for you. I'm under no obligation to help ya further."

She pushed the door, but before so Seita had come rushing out. On his back, Hinowa had clung to the child.

"You fool!" Tsukuyo proclaimed, the blood draining from her face. Hinowa looked at her helplessly. "How on earth do ya think you'll escape like this?"

Gintoki looked at her sympathetically. "You could join me," he suggested. "I told Seita that I was willing to rescue him and his mother."

"Not _you_ too!" In her fury she shoved Gintoki back. "You are endangerin' me and my livelihood, goddamn you all!"

"Tsukuyo, my love, you must trust us," Hinowa said gently. "After all, this man has reunited me and Seita together. His plan is to destroy Hosen - "

"A gamble in which we lose entirely!" Tsukuyo nearly shouted. "If you escape, Hosen will know! Have you all gone mad?"

"It's worth a try," Gintoki said. "And you thoroughly underestimate my skills, _Shinigami Dayuu_."

She turned away, upset. "You all are askin' me to agree to something _that is impossible_."

"Not impossible. Simply something quite improbable."

"That's the same damn thing!" she growled.

"Gin-san, Seita-kun - would you give me some time to talk to Tsukuyo?" Hinowa asked. The boy nodded, carefully placing the older courtesan to the ground. "Thank you dear."

The two walked off while Tsukuyo finally sat down next to Hinowa.

"This is crazy," she said flatly. "You can't walk and Seita can't carry you all the way out there. Other than me and Gintoki, there's no way we could take down Hosen."

"But Hosen is weak against the sun," Hinowa murmured softly. "He is not unbeatable."

At this, Tsukuyo's eyes widened. "What?" _Don't tell me that perm-head was actually right?_

Hinowa nodded. "Ever since I have been a child, he has always needed an umbrella to protect him from the sun. If he is exposed even for a tiny bit, his skin will burn."

"It's still a gamble. We shouldn't play with our lives."

"I've paid years on a gamble," Hinowa replied, gesturing to her legs. "And you have to play with something in your life, right?"

Tsukuyo glared at Hinowa. "That is not the gamble I wanted to make."

"What would you have me do, Tsukuyo? Have me sit up there for ten more years, wasting away until Hosen dies?"

"No, but - "

"Please, my dear... just this one time, please let me have a bit of faith in us." Hinowa put both her hands into Tsukuyo's palm, beseeching her in the only way that she had left: the honor of friendship.

Tsukuyo's mind furiously whirled, thinking of the secret passageway near the roof of Yoshiwara. Her heart beat quick at the merest possibility of escaping Yoshiwara. Would it be possible to lure Hosen to a spot where one might strategically target him with sunlight? Was this idea of freeing the courtesans truly feasible?

It was no use to think about it. If Hinowa wanted to be free, and to risk her life once more, than it would be inevitable that Tsukuyo would be linked to her fate. And if Hinowa was not here in Yoshiwara, she figured she might as well be dead.

She finally stood up, Hinowa looking at her hopefully.

"There's a room where you can open the roof," she said quietly.

"Oh, Tsukuyo! I've heard rumors about that."

"Right, but I've actually been there."

"It'd seem appropriate if you could give us directions. If you could lure Hosen to the center of Yoshiwara, at the right moment, we could open it then."

"Right," Tsukuyo said, still quiet and still brooding. "You must get there at all costs. No exceptions."

"Of course I will. I promise I will."

 

* * *

 

"Seita!"

"Yes?"

"There's a pipe out front from the corner of the hall, a few meters above your head. If you slip inside, head left, you'll be able to help your mom."

"Gotcha," the boy said, hooking his arms behind Hinowa, lifting her up gently so she could clamber on his back again. The sight of it made Tsukuyo a little sick, knowing that if she had more gumption it would be _her_ who would have carried Hinowa, not an eight year old boy.

 _I'm sorry, Hinowa. If it weren't just me and you against the world._ She cut off that thought shortly, for negative thoughts had never produced positive actions.

After ensuring that Seita and Hinowa had safely entered the pipe without any complications, Tsukuyo handed Hinowa what was left of her matchsticks, originally used to light up her pipe. Without such things they would have to trust their senses in the dark, and though Tsukuyo knew that they were safe for now, they would not be completely out of danger. Hinowa's fame - dimmed considerably over the span of eight years, but still recognizable - could endanger her and Seita.

"Good luck," she said. "You should be able to get there in thirty minutes."

"Tsukuyo, my dear - "

"Yes?"

"I love you," Hinowa said sincerely. "I truly do."

"For God's sake, don't make this into anything more bothersome," Tsukuyo said, flushing red. "Anyways, go! We may be running out of time."

Tsukuyo then turned to Gintoki who seemed impressed at her quick decision. "We'd better find Hosen."

"Okay." He pressed the button on the elevator, the light beeped not too long after. "What good luck!" Gintoki remarked.

Tsukuyo on the other hand, was suspicious. "Hold up - there shouldn't have been anybody down there."

The doors opened. In silent horror, Tsukuyo watched as Jiraia step out.

 

* * *

 

"Shishou - "

He ignored her, pushing Tsukuyo out the way. Flinging the doors open to Hinowa's bedroom, he saw that it was empty.

"Shishou, I can explain - "

With a quick movement, he slapped her. Hard.

"Where is she?" he asked, coldly. Tsukuyo raised a hand to her cheek, touching the spot where flesh had met flesh, fearful of further punishment.

Still, she could not answer that. Not even her master could intercede in such a matter like this.

"I told you to warn her," Jiraia said, grasping her by the neck, pinning her to the wall. "And this is the reward you choose to repay the man who rescued you from a life of depravity? Has this man brainwashed you so thoroughly that you would turn your back on me?"

"Shishou, _please_ ," Tsukuyo begged, though her breaths had grown short. "Hinowa escaped of her own will - "

The second blow knocked out all the wind from her, a dizzying punch that bruised her cheek. For a moment all Tsukuyo could see were stars before the image of her master materialized in front of her once more. She wanted to cry out from the pain, but could not, would not say anything. For this was her master. It was folly to fight against someone insurmountable. And he was terror, he was hate, and she feared him above all other men.

"She was a whore who could not walk." Jiraia said, a low rumble of anger running through his veins. "Tsukuyo, there are no rooms here for liars or cheats."

And suddenly his grip from her throat released.

Gintoki had aimed a left uppercut, slamming his fist against Jiraia's jaw, throwing him several meters away. His body crumpled at the base of a wooden pillar, making a sizable dent of splinters below the ground.

"She wasn't lying, you son of a bitch." Tsukuyo turned, only to see Gintoki's red eyes flashing in impassioned fury.

"It was I who advised Hinowa to escape. Never lay your hands on that woman ever again."

 

* * *

 

_to be continued_


	6. Chapter 6

 

* * *

 

Had Tsukuyo's eyesight been in better shape, she would have held more awe for the man who was no longer Sakata Gintoki, but a beast of rage and bitterness. For he was beautiful and terrible at the same time. His fury was ignited when he was struck by something that violated the inner darkness of his soul. And his greatest weakness was that he could not bear witnessing the mistreatment of a teacher towards his students. To him, it was beyond sacrilegious. His eyes snapped red, his muscles tensed with the instinct of a born warrior raised from the depths of hell.

And for the first time, as Jiraia rose from the ground, he was afraid. For he was used to hunting prey whom held fear and weakness in their eyes. The soldier who approached him was far from prey.

Tsukuyo's voice was weak when she lifted her head. "Sakata-san, don't... Don't hurt him."

He ignored her.

"Teachers don't lay their hands on students when they're wrongly accused," Gintoki said, his voice tempered by animosity. "How _dare_ you attack her."

"I have no quarrel with you, Shiroyasha-dono," Jiraia said smoothly. "But - "

"But what?" Gintoki interrupted vengefully. "That this is a business only reserved between you and your precious student? That she's not allowed to make up her mind when **_something is wrong in this city_**?"

Now Jiraia was becoming amused, and Tsukuyo's skin prickled at the foreboding sensation of dread crawling all over her back.

"Don't tell me you really believe that you can attempt to steal the most beautiful woman in all of Japan from under Hosen's nose."

"It would make for quite a legend, wouldn't it," Gintoki conceded, baring his fangs.

"As amusing as that would be, I can't waste any time on you."

Throwing powder at his feet, the entire hall turned pitch black in seconds, and though Gintoki could sense the direction of Jiraia's movements, he was still too late when the smoke cleared up from his watering eyes.

And all too suddenly, he knew that what he had feared had come to pass.

Tsukuyo was missing.

 

* * *

 

Jiraia had set the tower on fire. Before Gintoki knew it, more sparks flew near his feet, and he scrambled to the staircase before the flames could swallow him whole. His survivor instincts kicked in, pushing away the rage that had so consumed him minutes before. Running quickly down the stairs he shielded his head with his arm, taking care that his eyes would be safe from the falling debris.

Where could Tsukuyo be? he wondered briefly, before focusing his attentions on getting down safely. It was no use to look for her now. He only hoped that she had managed to escape from the inferno.

Not too long after, he had reached the lowest floor of the tower, ducking away from a nearby collapsing rail. A big grizzled man with a black umbrella was standing outside, looking up at the tower.

 

* * *

 

_I came, I saw, and I conquered. Or so I thought I did._

A bit of Hosen's heart had crumbled away as he gazed at the balcony that had once held a beautiful woman whom had sat with her back straight, her eyes clear and virtuous. He would later mistake it as anger, as he had never fully comprehended the notion of love. Instead he had chosen to mask it in displays of abuse and dominance, for he could never forgive himself for being attached to a human. Now she had burned to ashes in that tower.

And it was then, that he realized he had never truly broken her spirit.

He turned slowly to Gintoki, who simply stood, observing him from a distance away.

"Did you do this?" Hosen asked calmly. His Japanese was flawless, having lived in Yoshiwara for more than over a decade now.

"No."

The Yato snorted. "You are a liar and an insurgent. But I say, you are remarkably stupid for choosing to come here to your own death."

"I don't intend on dying."

"Spare your words, for I care not of a lying man's gravestone script." Jiraia laughed bitterly, lifting up his umbrella. It was enormous, spanning more than six feet in length. A split second later, a giant hole in the wall was blasted away, Gintoki deftly moving away from the weapon.

"Dead men ought to be quiet," Hosen said indifferently. He looked up at the balcony once more. "I had this feeling. Just a funny feeling, that everything was going to crash and burn before my eyes."

"I suppose you've never feel sorry for the women here?" Gintoki asked, walking a slow circle around Jiraia, his eyes alert and dangerous. "Have you ever thought a bit of sunlight might be good for them, once in a while?"

Jiraia chuckled with the small amusement that came so easily for him after years of fighting.

"What delusions are you speaking of? I came here. I conquered you puny humans. And I have taken your women and your city as my reward."

 

* * *

 

Jiraia dropped Tsukuyo down in the dungeon below the Sun Tower. Coughing, she crawled on her arms and legs before looking up, her eyes straining in the dark.

"What have you become, Tsukuyo?"

She rolled out of the way before his leg made contact with her stomach, quickly scrambling to stand on her two feet. "Shishou - "

"You little bitch," he said with disgust. "Did you think I'd never find out?"

"Find out what, Shishou?"

"Don't play games with me!" he shouted. Like a flash of lightning, the next blow came quickly but powerfully. Tsukuyo could feel her back slamming into the wall, her jaw aching from the pressure.

"You think that you can come in here, rescue women who were meant to be killed?" he asked. "They're killed for a goddamn reason!"

She wiped her mouth. "But they're people too!" she protested. She was bewildered why her master had suddenly become so angry. Rarely did Jiraia ever lose his temper with her; it was usually Tsukuyo - naturally impatient and haughty - who would retaliate at the merest provocation.

Jiraia hit her again, this time square in the chest. Tsukuyo's lungs stopped for a moment before her body crashed into a pillar, leaving cracks into the wooden surface.

"You can't get attached to people, goddamn you!" he roared. "What the hell do you think this place is, huh?"

Unconsciously she cowered under his gaze, her bruised arms lifting feebly to defend helplessly against his next action.

"Shishou, please - "

"Don't beg!" he shouted at her, shaking her so hard that her head became dizzy, her vision blurred from disorientation. "I taught you better than that!"

She pushed his arms away from her, trying to focus and throw out desperate words - words that she hoped would placate him. "Shishou, if you would just calm down! For God's sake - "

"How can I calm down when my student is filthy and corrupted!" he screamed. "In just a week you're infatuated with a man!"

"I am NOT in love with that samurai!" she yelled back, hurt. She rolled away from Jiraia as he finally stilled, his eyes fixated on her. "And I am _not_ filthy and corrupted!"

"Tsukuyo... you were such a beautiful moon," he said mournfully. "You were my beautiful creation - my soldier, my perfect warrior... "

A kunai slipped from his wrist, and he gripped it expertly. "I always forget that people are, alas, human... "

"Shishou, NO!" she yelled, her eyes widening. "NO, NO, NO - "

He charged straight at her, and she leapt, jumping up to the side beams near the ceiling. Inwardly she was shaking. She had never expected her master to want to hurt her, much less kill her.

"You can't hide from me," Jiraia snarled.

"Shishou, please," Tsukuyo begged again, only to be rewarded with a kunai, stuck firmly into the wooden pillar. A wisp of blonde hair floated down, severed from her own head.

"You have failed me," her master observed dispassionately. He lifted his hand again, this time with four kunais between his fingers. Tsukuyo quickly recognized this as a killing movement, designed to be lethal. She had seen this executed on criminals and the worst of rapists before, leaving their limbs torn apart.

A lump lodged in her throat, and already she could feel the formation of tears in her eyes.

Was this what years of oppression had come to?

Was this to be the end?

Was she to die, nameless, before the man whom had once saved her?

As she suddenly became aware of her death, a fire had lit up in her spirit, slowing down time and causing her body to move based on instinct rather than any form of conscious thought. Years of living in a cage had never dampened her hope that one day, she would have escaped. Though she could have never articulated it herself, she had been blessed with the gifts of self-preservation.

 _I want answers before I die_ , _goddamn it._ Curling her fist, she jumped down from the pillar with a vengeful roar, and tackled Jiraia with all over her strength.

 

* * *

 

"Why are you samurai so intent on hating us?" Hosen asked, his eyes narrowed.

"... We don't," Gintoki said. His voice was quiet. Behind him, the building's fire had started to work its way down. He was aware of the fact that there were more female soldiers lurking in the shadows. He hoped that one of them would rescue the other unconscious soldiers whom were still lying on the first floor of the building.

"It's a disgrace," Hosen replied, eyes hard and fist clenched. "You ought to turn tail, retreat. After all... you will lose. Or is it that you prefer dying a beautiful death?"

"If I had time to fantasize about a beautiful death, I wouldn't be here." Gintoki replied, unsheathing his sword.

"Ah, are you sure about that?" Hosen grinned, sure that this human was insane. Who else on earth would even dare challenge him, the King of Yatos? It was ridiculous to even assume that a mere human could even lay their hands on their weakest warriors.

He didn't give Gintoki time to think about what a foolish choice he was making. Whirling his enormous umbrella, he aimed for the samurai's chest.

He had miscalculated, however. Instantaneously, Gintoki leapt over his weapon, swinging his sword at Hosen's head, cackling with glee.

"You'll have to do better than that, sir!" he crowed.

 _What a thrill_ , Hosen thought, right before he flipped backwards, missing the metal by a few centimeters. His feet dug into the floor, gaining traction as he straightened his body upright again. How long had it been since he last fought? Twenty years?

Unbeknownst to him, Gintoki took steps back, making sure that he was clearly visible from the top of Yoshiwara's ceiling. The Sun Tower was in the middle of the red light city. If the window was to open at the precise moment, it would guarantee his death. But there were no certainties. At the very least, Hosen would need to be incapacitated.

He lightly sidestepped Hosen, dodging the monster's every move. Though the Yato was old, his speed was no slower than the swordsmanship of Katsura nor Takasugi's - a fact that made this very battle dangerous. Gintoki was experienced enough to not underestimate any of his enemies, especially not for a Yato of such reputation.

Still, Hosen was treating him as if he was an irksome fly. Gintoki was dodging his blows, too many for Hosen to keep his patience. _Impudent human,_ he thought furiously to himself.

"What's wrong, old man?" the samurai taunted, his eyes sharp and alert. "Cat got your own tongue?"

"I notice _you're_ not attacking," Hosen retorted.

"You only wish I wasn't," Gintoki said, and twisted the cap of a grenade off with his teeth.

 

* * *

 

"My parents sold me as a slave. I've fought in this cage before with only tooth and nail. You're not taking me out that easily," Tsukuyo snarled, her tanto sword pressed against Jiraia's jugular. His wrists and ankles had been pierced by knives.

"So kill me," he said, his Adam's apple bobbing against the cool metal of her kunai.

"But I want to know _WHY_!" she screamed, her grip tightening on his neck. " ** _WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS_**?" Her eyes stung from the tears that were threatening to spill out.

"You're my _shishou_ ," Tsukuyo choked out, not knowing if she was angry or sad or both. "You're not supposed to be like this."

"You have betrayed me," Jiraia said simply, closing his eyes.

"I would have _died_ for you," she whispered. The flicker of fury came back, overwhelming the pain in her heart. She raised her hand to sever the chord between life and death.

And then something held her back. The kunai fell out of her hand with an empty clang.

"Shishou, why are you lying to me?" Tsukuyo asked. "This is not like you. Why are you doing this?"

 

* * *

 

The explosion was spectacular, Gintoki running backwards as swiftly as he could so he could keep an eye on Hosen. His fingers were plugged into his ears, and he winced as the debris fell near his head. He should have brought a helmet, which was the thing that Sakamoto would wear, but he figured it was too uncool for him here. Now he was regretting that decision as the tower threatened to collapse.

Hosen emerged from the smoke, coughing. He regarded the loss of an arm as proof that he was facing a worthy adversary. Calmly wrapping a rag around what was left of his limb, he addressed Gintoki in the middle of rubble.

"You've made a mistake coming here," he said, his voice low and pleasant. "I could have forgiven you and let you escape alive. But now, no way."

"Well, lucky for the both of us, that makes two of us." Gintoki wiped the soot off his forehead with a dirty sleeve. "I also intend on killing you."

"At what cost, samurai-san? I could crush your bones, so that you become a pathetic hollow of a human. I could twist off your neck."

"We'll see," Gintoki said, and met Hosen's blow, finally, with the strength of two swords. It nearly knocked the wind out of his lungs as he was confronted with the sheer brunt of the Yato's power.

 _And he's doing this with one hand? This is crazy_! his mind shouted at him. Gintoki gritted his teeth, narrowing his focus on gathering all his strength for the moment.

 _Keep hanging on, goddamn it_ , he thought.

"Give up, human," Hosen said, smug. "My strength has killed Yato with twice your abilities."

"I'm worth more than any Yato!" Gintoki snarled. "I took off your arm, didn't I?"

That quip cost the samurai a blow into a nearby building, Hosen slamming him into a bamboo floor. The pain battered him like a bag of bricks, and he suppressed a groan as he struggled to stand up again.

The Amanto stood above Gintoki, grinning maniacally before slamming his fist a centimeter away from Gintoki's head. The dent made was considerable. With no time to lose, the samurai aimed his knuckles at Hosen's nose, breaking the cartilage with a nasty crack.

Roaring in pain, Hosen backed away, while Gintoki stood up, panting. He limped over to fetch his sword, never taking his eyes off his enemy.

His master would not have approved of this tactic. Shoyou-sensei was man of proper etiquette, especially during a fight. But Gintoki had deserted the ideals of _bushido_ long before stepping into the battlefield. Here, he couldn't afford the courtesies that a feudal warlord would usually employ, especially when dealing with savages. And anything who deemed it morally acceptable to enslave women for sexual pleasure in such conditions was past beyond any redemption, in his opinion.

Still, he couldn't take this moment for granted. Yatos healed quickly, and although he was told that they could not regenerate limbs, one could never underestimate them too lightly.

He flexed his arms, and charged directly at Hosen.

 

* * *

 

"Kill me," Jiraia said.

"I said _no_. I refuse. I won't have this on my conscience!" Tsukuyo finally rose from the ground, her feet shaking as her eyes finally took in the damage that she had inflicted on her master. It made her feel sick. Defiled. She could smell his blood on her hands. Had she truly been prepared to murder the man who had raised her from childhood?

"What if I offered you the helm of the Hyakka? Would you do it then?"

"Don't tempt me!" she screamed, her voice echoing in the darkness. "I won't defend this cage anymore! I can't!"

"You can, and you will," he said disdainfully. "How on earth do you think you can take down Hosen?"

"Shut up!" she retorted. But inwardly, she was beginning to panic. _Maybe I was an idiot to trust Gintoki_ , she thought, distraught.

"I can see your doubt, your shame," Jiraia murmured. "You will never escape Yoshiwara. It will be the fate of every woman who steps through these gates to remain enslaved."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Tsukuyo yelled. For a moment she closed her eyes, wishing that everything would go away. If only there was something to believe in, something she could put her faith in! _Hinowa, help me!_

_Hinowa. My sister, my beloved. I should go to her._

The image of the calm, benevolent woman calmed her down. _Breathe in, Tsukuyo. You've got this_.

Slowly, she made her way to her master, still pinned helplessly beneath his wires. Kneeling down next to his side, she made a vow.

"I won't be like you, _Shishou_. I never wanted to be a killer. I never wanted to be like this. To hurt you like the way you are," she whispered.

"But you did. You are," he insisted. And then he coughed out blood. "... an excellent killer... Tsukuyo."

"No I'm not," she said, her eyes downcast. "I haven't got the heart for it. I can't kill innocent people in good conscience. And I won't do it anymore."

The courtesan stood up, and closed the dungeon doors behind her.

 

* * *

 

There was a group of women armed to the teeth waiting for her down below. Tsukuyo surveyed them coolly, wondering if Jiraia had instructed them to wait for her. She decided to play it safe.

"Evening, ladies," she greeted them. "What's the problem?"

"Traitor!" someone yelled out.

Well then. Tsukuyo tilted her head, frowning. They could prove to be a very big obstacle if she did not immediately obliterate them.

"Who told you?"

"Jiraia-sama, of course! You've been collaborating with Sakata Gintoki to endanger our lives!"

"And how would two people endanger your lives, may I ask?" Her voice was growing sharp. _I don't have time for this_ , she thought angrily to herself. _I need to go to Hinowa. Her life might be in peril as we speak._

"Don't lie, Shinigami Dayuu! I won't let you attack Hosen-sama. Not when my life is in danger from being accused of treachery!"

Tsukuyo was furious. "Treachery?" she asked, hissing out the word as if it was a curse. "How dare you accuse me of treachery, when I'm risking my life for the freedom of every one of you in this very room."

"It is true. I'm taking a risk by committing a betrayal to Hosen," she said, her voice clear and proud. "But take a look at this city! For over twenty years, we've been enslaved by a monster who cares little for us. He's raped and pillaged our Yoshiwara. He's taken us away from our villages. Is this your idea of living, to be in a cage forever?" Tsukuyo took a step towards them. "Fear of pregnancy, fear of love. This ain't a way for women to live."

"But do we have any other choice?" a soldier asked. She pushed her mask down, revealing a scar just like Tsukuyo's.

"If we don't work together right now, we won't stand a bloody chance." Tsukuyo said. The courtesan looked at everyone straight in the eye, her gaze skipping no one.

"I won't hold grudges if you choose not ta follow me," she began, her eyes sweeping across the room. "But many of you owe a debt to me. The only favor I want to ask of you is to _let me go_."

The room was silent. Then the soldier whom had already spoken walked forth to take her place next to Tsukuyo. "You saved my life, once," she said humbly. "It would be an honor to lay mine down for yours."

 

* * *

 

_to be continued_

 


	7. Chapter 7

In the end, they all came to her side, and her heart swelled with a fond affection for all of her soldiers. Loyalty had always been a hard thing to buy, a paradox in a city where temporary dreams were sold and consumed. And though she would have been the sort of woman that courtesans would have distrusted had she became one of them, there was a toughness to her as a guardian of Yoshiwara that attracted female solidarity. In warriors there'd been an intrinsic trust that comes from heavy scarring.

"Right," Tsukuyo said. "Two of you must head to the rooftop." Without wasting any time she gave the instructions to the rest of the warriors, mapping out a strategic plan to maximize the surprise.

Nobody realistically will ally with Hosen. He's burned too many bridges in Yoshiwara for anybody to hold favors, save for Jiraia - whom was luckily incapacitated for the moment. For years there had been talks of mutiny in Yoshiwara, but fear holds back anyone from challenging his rule.

 

* * *

 

Gintoki wiped his mouth as Hosen calmly walked towards him. They had been fighting for thirty minutes, and Gintoki knew if someone did not come, he would die. Hosen on the other end seemed to have boundless energy, as was expected from a Yato.

"Enough of this foolishness, human," he said. "Bow to me, and I will not kill you."

Blood was slowly dripping down his forehead, his eyesight was increasingly blurry. Gintoki was beyond tired, stretched to his physical ability as he stood in front of the Yato.

He laughed hoarsely. "You think this can go on forever? That... that you weren't gonna deal with this someday?" Leaning on his sword, Gintoki swore as a pain attacked him from his ribs.

"No country... shall be mined on the back of slaves... " he said, coughing again.

"To which I disagree," Hosen said slowly, his eyes glinting with anticipation as he lifted his enormous umbrella once more for a final slam, intending to obliterate this samurai that had vexed him for so long. Gintoki looked up helplessly as his muscles froze, certain that his life had finally come to an end.

And then someone had thrown a kunai in his eye.

 

* * *

 

"Tsukuyo!"

She was bandaged. There were bruises on her neck and arms.

But she was alive. And furious.

" _DON'T_ \- " (she threw knives at Hosen's wrist, bloodying them further)

" _YOU_ \- " (now his neck bled)

" _DARE_ \- " (and Gintoki saw his knees giving out)

" _KILL_ \- " (another kunai pierced his forehead)

" _THAT_ \- " (things were happening too quick now)

" ** _MAN_**!"

Gintoki scrambled out of the way as Hosen stumbled, roaring with pain.

"Tsukuyo..."

" _ **FIIIIIIIIIIIRE!**_ " she screamed. All at once, thousands of kunai came out of nowhere, striking Hosen's back.

And then, the King of Yoshiwara finally fell to his knees.

 

* * *

 

The dust had cleared. Hosen was plucking the knives embedded into his body.

_This is fine. My skin and body will heal._

But now, his arm faltered, as the first beams of sunlight hit his back. "What the... "

Gintoki looked up weakly, grinning like a madman. Blood seeped from his teeth.

The roof had opened.

"Joke's on you, monster," he said, and with the last of his energy, punched the Yato hard in the stomach, making topple all the way to the ground.

 

* * *

 

Gintoki handed her his sword as Tsukuyo met him in the middle of the square. "It's for you," he said. And then collapsed at the feet of the monster in front of her.

She stood three feet away from Hosen, whose skin was burning from the sun, peeling away. He was gradually turning into dust, and his moans of pain could be heard in the midst of a silent, but anxious crowd of courtesans. Both Gintoki and her were bruised, bleeding.

"Behold!" Tsukuyo roared, her eyes snapping with righteous anger. "Here lies a monster who has enslaved us women for his entertainment! He has torn away the legs of Hinowa, and locked her away in a tower for her crime of raising a baby!"

And with three steps, she cleanly lopped off his head. Tsukuyo raised the sword in utter triumph.

The roars of the crowd was deafening.

 

* * *

 

Gintoki woke up in a hospital a few days later. Takasugi was the first thing he saw through bleary eyes.

"Finally, you've woken up."

Immediately his body was racked with pain. Upon seeing Gintoki grimace, his friend stood up quietly. "Easy. You've just healed from a few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a shit ton of bruises." And upon a quieter admission that he hoped none of his soldiers would hear: "Thank God for Amanto medicine."

"But the war - "

"Our troops are here," Takasugi said calmly, his arms crossed. "In civilian clothing. Speaking of which, your girlfriend really is something, I've got to say."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Sure. In either case, that red spider of hers is locked in my captivity. Katsura and Sakamoto are on guard; I don't trust my men to suppress him if he tries something funny."

"You mean Jiraia?"

"Mm. I think he might know something about Shoyou."

Gintoki leaned back into his pillow. "Right. As soon as I get out of here - "

"You're going to leave so soon?" The voice did not belong to Takasugi.

 

* * *

 

His friend stood and bowed to the woman, leaving the room to allow the two some privacy. "Tsukuyo-san."

"Thank you, Takasugi-dono."

Even with a half-bruised eye, Gintoki couldn't stop looking at her, sitting casually at his bedside next to him.

He thinks about how he's gotten to know how to get under her skin. Knows what makes her tick, knows what makes her smile. And he thinks she's worth a gamble or two in this fucked up little world, a wild card in a sea of monotony. She was the sort of woman who could make a man like him - a devil, harborer of destruction - fall to his knees.

"I'm sorry I look so fucked up," he said, his voice raspy.

And here, she looked stricken. "No. No, I'm the one who should be sorry." And she turned her head away. Gintoki was quietly touched to see a solitary tear run down her cheek out of sheer relief that he was truly alive.

"Are you all right?"

"Nothing that can't be healed. What about you?"

"I've had better days," he said wryly.

She wiped her eye quickly, and turned her face back to his. "I can't believe you did so much. For me. For... Hinowa. For all of us. You could have been killed."

"Yeah, well - " Gintoki grinned now, even though it came with a twinge of pain. "Don't you remember what you told me? Us samurai are like that, you know. We love throwing our lives away for stupid causes."

Tsukuyo looked at him straight in the eye now, even though her eyes were watering, threatening to spill into tears once more. "It wasn't stupid to me," she said quietly.

"I know," he said, just as quietly.

She was closer to him now, and he could see that her mouth was trembling. From what, he could not tell for certain.

He lifted his bandaged hand slowly and placed it reassuringly on hers. The gesture did not go unnoticed.

"Gintoki, I just wanted you ta know..." She paused, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "... That if Hosen had killed you, I would have never forgiven myself. Ever."

"I know."

"And you'd still be a greater man than any that I've met."

He cocked his head sideways. "Does this mean... you're warming up to me?"

"I might be."

At this, he had to smile. "Because, the person I remember a week ago would have, ah, forgive me, Shinigami Dayuu - _loathed_ me. Maybe for a good reason, but I digress."

"I'm afraid I might be a complicated woman."

"Ah. Now, that _is_ something to be afraid of. And yet, you're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

She laughed softly. "I bet you say that to every woman you've been with." Her hand hadn't moved from his.

"Oh, do be quiet," he replied, smiling, finally leaning forward to press his lips against hers.

 

* * *

 

The only reward Gintoki wanted, in the end, was to be poured a drink by none other than the Courtesan of Death herself. Once he had healed appropriately, they had let him go from the hospital. Now he sat contentedly in a dim room while the sounds of Yoshiwara whirled around him. The laughter of courtesans would pique his ears occasionally. A lone shamisen not too far away played into the normal cacophony of the red light district.

She had dressed in traditional _oiran_ garb at his request, and a lacquered ornament tucked into the bun of her golden head. A flower hung delicately on top of her hair, complimenting her blue courtesan outfit. It was a pleasant change, he thought, to see this normally fiery woman to be so utterly feminine. The silk doors had been opened to let the savior of Yoshiwara enjoy the view of the city, and more remarkably, the sight of the night sky.

After his second drink, he stood up. "Come," he said, opening his hand. She took it.

Leading her to the balcony, he gestured to the large window in the ceiling. "There's a whole new world out there, Tsukuyo. Come with me. You could be free of this city, of all that you've been through."

"You know I can't," she said, shaking her head, knowing full well she was giving up what most courtesans considered to be a lifelong dream. "Not when Hinowa is here. Our city... will be chaotic. I have to take responsibility."

His hand still gripped hers. "I see." He smiled sadly.

"What about your master?" she asked, even more quietly. "I heard from Takasugi that you were looking for him."

"Yes. Tomorrow I must leave at dawn," he confessed.

Now it was she who was disappointed. "I see. Well, in that case... I understand."

She tried to calm herself, but suddenly her eyes were beginning to collect tears. But Gintoki had never been a coward, and so she blinked them away furiously, clearing her throat.

It was silly to expect a man like him to remain in one place. And still, why did she feel compelled to beg him to stay?

Her hand still grasped his. "Isn't the moon beautiful today?" she asked. "And yet... I hate it so, for it once the dawn comes, it will sweep you away."

She looked melancholy. "I used to wish that one day, I would escape this never ending night. But this might be the one time where I wish the moon would never go away."

Gintoki could hear the meaning behind her words. Her sincerity sparked a tenderness that reached deep into his heart; she had touched him on a level that he knew he would never find again, anywhere else.

"... Me too."

She turned to him, smiling in the way that made it seem as if their separation was inevitable.

He couldn't help it then, finding it to be too lonely for words. He leaned towards her and kissed her deeply, hungrily - and found himself wanting more than what he already received from her. She sensed this, but not before reciprocating her ardor in full measure.

"We should go back inside," she said, breaking away from him, breathless and pink.

"Right..."

Amazingly, it was she who slid the doors closed. He dared not make the first move, awaiting her permission. The two stood in relative darkness before she sighed.

"If it would break your resolve, I would do anything to make you stay," she said finally. "But I know better than that. Nothing will stop you from leaving. And yet... for one night, I want to give you a beautiful memory, Gintoki."

She kneeled on top of her futon, slowly untying the knot of her obi. "I am yours, if that is what you wish."

He smiled. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse, _Shinigamu_ _Dayuu_?" He walked over to her slowly and kneeled across from her as well. In a gentler tone, he asked her, "Is this your first time?"

She blushed, but nodded.

He kissed the knuckles of her hand. "I'm honored. Truly."

Tsukuyo looked away, her cheeks still pink. "I figured it would be proper payment for what you've done..."

"Maybe." He grinned slyly. "But what if... I want to be with you more than once? What then?"

"Then... you'd have to come back, of course."

"I see," he said, neither promising nor declining anything as of now. Still, she would let him continue to do what they had been doing on the balcony. His mouth explored hers while his fingers deftly undid the ribbons holding her courtesan outfit together. Another hand of his pulled out her hair ornaments one by one, dropping them onto the plush carpet.

Before she knew it, he was already kissing her neck, which made her throat hitch at the unexpected contact. Tugging her clothes down slightly, he exposed her creamy shoulders and proceeded to shower it with light, feathery kisses which made her gasp for breath. She was startled when she suddenly felt his fingers brush against her firm, taut nipples through her clothing.

"Gintoki…"

"Don't think," he whispered. "Just let it be what it is."

She was about to reply before he silenced her with another deep kiss, tugging at her clothes once again, finally exposing her lush, full breasts. He cupped her left breast with his hands, savoring the feeling of her hard nipples beneath his calloused skin. Her breasts were just the perfect size for him— under his hands, he took exquisite pleasure in kneading it up and down skillfully as he pinched her nipples in between his fingers and circled them with his thumb.

No one had touched Tsukuyo like this before, in places that were usually covered and private. A spark of electricity - or was it fire? - shot straight to her loins, making her tremble underneath Gintoki's hands.

The kept on kissing each other, knowing that all that mattered was the sudden urgency to bring them closer than ever before. Their desire for one another would only increase as they found themselves becoming more aroused by the second.

Somehow during their exchange, Gintoki's own yukata had loosened. Tsukuyo couldn't resist from moving her hands everywhere in order to feel more of his body. She caressed her fingers against his stomach, memorizing every contour of his body, tracing every curve and scar of his torso. And yet, she stopped moving as soon as she felt his other hand move its way towards her thigh, making her crave for more of his touch. He brushed his fingers all the way to her sex, and she belatedly realized that she was already aroused and wet... for _him_.

Their tongues still entangled upon each other, Gintoki pushed her back further against the futon, which made her arch her back in order to meet his fingers that were now caressing her womanhood. She became addicted to the foreign feeling on her sex, letting out a loud gasp when he had deliberately stroked his finger on her clitoris.

With the sin of desire clouding her senses, she did not think of anything else anymore as she focused on making the two of them as close as possible.

She had never expected sex to resemble anything like this. The courtesans often made it seem like a performance, even a chore at times; this was anything but that. This was primal. Instinctual. Whatever felt good, she did without thought to whether it was right or wrong. Though she had no experience, her desire for him had shed any anxiety she might have once held before tonight.

And the pleasure coursed through her body once more when Gintoki had finally freed himself from her mouth and began to suck on her breasts, stimulating her already-hard nipples with every flicker of his tongue. She then moved her body towards him in order to meet him; she arched her back even more in order to give him more access to her body while she gripped on his hair as tight as she could. Her pleasure was intensified when his finger languidly stroked her clitoris, sending her to an edge that she had no name for.

But she felt, somehow that this was judiciously unfair. She wanted to be even closer to him. She wanted to close the distance between them, for him to be inside of her. She wanted to make him feel the way she felt right now.

Realizing this, Gintoki wasted no more time as he removed the last piece of fabric that shielded him from her entirely nude body. Just when his length was positioned at her entrance, he stopped and looked at her, as if asking for permission. Realizing this, she gave a slight nod and smiled.

It stung as soon as he entered her, gently pushing himself deeper inside her. He was trying his hardest to be careful in order not to hurt her, but he stopped moving once he heard her let out the smallest cry of pain. He then looked at her sympathetically after seeing her grimace.

"Fuck, you're _tight_ — " Gintoki exhaled, trying to maintain his composure. "... You're not okay, are you?"

"It's so _big_ ," she said, wincing. "How does... how does this even work?"

He laughed awkwardly. "We can stop if you want. I'm really not _that_ big, you know."

"No! Just... just stay there," Tsukuyo said, taking deep breaths. It was going to feel better eventually, she reasoned. And yet... part of her hesitated. It had originally stung and now it was reverting into a dull ache deep inside her. Even though she was wet and ready, would it always feel like this?

"Don't pressure yourself," he cautioned, still not moving. "I don't want you to do something that you don't want to do."

"No, I - please, don't get the wrong idea!" she said, almost panicking. "I _want_ to do this," she said quietly. "Please?" she added.

"As you wish, _Shinigami Dayuu_ ," he teased her. "Let me pull out? I'll try something that I think will make it easier for you."

"Okay."

Wanting to make it up to her, he withdrew slowly and then pushed himself inside her more carefully this time, his length moving back and forth, shallowly entering her one inch at a time until she gave signs that it was acceptable to continue deeper inside her.

"Better?"

"Mm-hmm."

There were intervals, still, that he would have to stop to let her adjust to his girth. But eventually, she was starting to meet him halfway as her earlier discomfort turned into pleasure, her movements finally matching his own, their bodies moving in a steady rhythm.

"Tsukuyo," he whispered hotly in her ear, as he thrust inside her, hitting a spot inside her that made her knees weak. "How does this feel?"

"Like... I'm on the edge." He did it again just to see her gasp in unexpected pleasure.

"Good. Me too."

In the moments where he paused, just to kiss her while choosing to slowly thrust inside her and producing in her a simmering, slow burning pleasure - a vague thought would pass through in her mind like a flitting butterfly. How much of him did she _really_ know? Was she simply another notch on Sakata Gintoki's belt?

But then again, did it matter? This was Yoshiwara, wasn't it? Was this not a city of dreams, a city of ephemeral pleasures where a man could escape from his troubles? She wouldn't be the first woman to give herself to a man, and she sure wouldn't be the last, either.

_"Don't think. Just let it be what it is."_

And as soon as she found herself forgetting these complicated thoughts and kissing him once again, she took into consideration all this:

Her tongue, battling with his own; her breasts, pushing against his chest; her nipples, brushing against his skin; their sweat, dripping on the futon and their bodies, the sensation of him buried so deep inside her, twisting it further and deeper that she was melting underneath his body; the sounds, their bodies slapping and grinding against each other, their ragged breaths, their moans and whimpers and tiny gasps of hedonistic pleasure—

The whole experience of it all only confirmed on how badly she wanted him to remember her. Giving her own chastity to him, she felt, was the only way she could give thanks. Because in the end he'd risked almost everything just to save Hinowa and her son. He had done it for Tsukuyo, and no one else.

And even though one could barely call what they shared a relationship, much less a coupling stemming from the relief that they were both alive, and vindictively happy to be that way too - it was okay.

If this was the closest thing to _true_ _love_ that one could attain in a city like Yoshiwara, she was fine with it. She knew she wouldn't be ashamed for giving up her womanhood to its savior. No matter what Jiraia thought about her, and no matter the oath she had taken to protect her city, she knew she would have no regrets. All of her admiration for him swelled out of her chest as she locked gazes with him, staring deep into his eyes; their bodies were still connected as they continued to push against each other. As his thrusts turned even faster and deeper than she could've ever thought she was able to tolerate, she knew that she was closer to the edge that she'd never reached before.

"Gintoki - I'm gonna - "

His lips dragged to his, suppressing her moan in lieu of a frenzied kiss. Instinctively, she knew he was close to the edge, judging the way his hips were bucking so hard to meet hers. He was thrusting in so deep that she could only open her mouth in a silent cry, barely able to breathe herself.

All of this proved to be too much and finally, her own body came at its climax as she felt her whole body spasm. Everything blanked out for a few seconds, her muscles contracting as she felt her body milking his length. She mouthed explicit words too filthy to say out loud; it was far more intense than she had expected it to be, with pleasure so piercing she felt as if she were going half mad from it all.

A second later, he pulled out, spurting his seed across her breasts, groaning languidly as he came. As soon as he finished, he collapsed into the futon next to her side.

Only the sounds of their heavy breathing followed shortly after, although the taciturnity was more comforting than not. There was a moderately sized bathroom with a tub big enough for two in the room they were in. Gintoki, completely unconscious of his nudity, reached out for a silk towel and turned the faucet for hot water, submerging it thoroughly before twisting all the moisture out. He returned to the room next to her.

He turned to her. "Stay still," he said, carefully wiping away his semen from her body. "There, you're clean now."

"Thanks."

"Not the most romantic thing post-coitus, but..." Gintoki shrugged. "Now I know you won't be pregnant."

 _Oh_. She'd barely given a thought to such things. Somehow she hadn't even planned for that possibility even though she knew, of course, that sex led to conception.

He read her expression and chuckled. "See? I'm not a deviant to knock up a woman senselessly." Shrugging, he pulled her on top of her while reaching for the blanket to keep her naked body warm again.

"I never said you were," she grumbled, but rested her head at the crook of her neck anyway. They laid peacefully like this for a while while he stroked her blond hair absentmindedly.

"Hey, Gintoki."

"Yeah?"

"Will you come back someday?" she asked seriously.

"Of course I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


End file.
